


Trustworthy

by AnnieVH



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Hat Trick, M/M, Slash, hat trick au, madfire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hat Trick AU where Henry brought Neal to Storybrooke, and not Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trustworthy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: inspired by this gifset (http://amythegloriouspond.tumblr.com/post/96459678098/jefferson-neal-requested-by-maddiebonanafana) by amythegloriouspond, and by this list of AUs (http://annievh.tumblr.com/post/104393924877/amythegloriouspond-jefferson-neal-requested-by).

When the car stopped spinning, Neal started breathing again.

 _I just killed a man_ , he thought, hands grasping the wheel.  _I just killed a man with the sheriff’s car and Graham is going to kill me_.

He jumped out.

“I’m so sorry!” he shouted, looking in the dark for his target. “I am so,  _so_ sorry! Are you alright?”

From the side of the road came a painful groan – painful, but alive, good sign – followed by a weak voice, “I think so.”

Neal held the other man’s elbow and pulled him up. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t see you there. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s my fault,” said the other man, brushing dirt off his clothes. “I shouldn’t be sharing the road with cars this late at night.” He looked up, smiling. But then he frowned. “You’re not Graham.”

“Uhn…” Neal said, looking back at the car and understanding the stranger’s confusion. “No. I’m not.”

The other man’s smile flashed the hint of a tease. “Did I just get run over by a car thief?”

Though the situation was far too serious, Neal found himself smiling back. “It’s actually a loan.”

“I didn’t know Sheriff Humbert liked to share it. In fact,” he groaned, trying out a few steps, “I always got the impression he was very possessive of it.”

Neal offered him a hand to steady himself. “It’s a special situation.”

The stranger raised his eyebrows, asking silently. But Neal just said, “You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine,” he said, limping a few steps more. “My house is just a mile down the road.”

Neal looked at him, then off to the open road. It had been less than an hour since Henry had called him, and the kid was fast. But he had the car, and the man lived in the same direction he was going.

“Listen, I’m going that way. Why don’t I give you a ride?”

The stranger looked genuinely guilty. Poor soul. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s the least I can do.”

Neal opened the door on the passenger side and let him in.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m Jefferson.”

“Hey, Jefferson. I’m Neal.”

*

“House” didn’t quite cover it. Jefferson lived in a manor in the richest neighborhood in the small town. Not too far from where his father lived, in a flamboyant pink house that Neal couldn’t even begin to explain. But Jefferson’s home, despite being one of the largest in the street, was discreet and tasteful.

At first he thought he’d just drive him there and leave in a rush, but when Jefferson seemed to struggle with the front steps, he couldn’t help himself but park and help him inside. And now he was staring out of his living room window, wondering about Henry. A small kid trying to make it to Boston on foot to convince his mother to come to town.

 _He is definitely her son_ , Neal thought.  _I shouldn’t have said she wouldn’t come. I shouldn’t have told him to drop it. I promised to help him._

He sighed. Fatherhood was harder than it looked. Now his son was out there _somewhere_. If Madam Mayor found out…

_Lets hope Graham can keep her occupied._

“Such deep sighs.”

Neal turned.

Jefferson was looking at him with curiosity, holding up a tea tray.

“Must be a really special situation.”

Neal tried to smile. “More like an emergency. I’m looking for something.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what?” he asked, putting down the tray and indicating a seat for Neal to take.

Neal hissed. “It’s a complicated story. In fact, I should probably go-”

“You know,” he interrupted, “I’m a bit of an amateur cartographer. Mapping the area is a hobby. If you lost something, maybe I could help you find it.”

He poured hot tea in a teacup and placed it back in the saucer before offering it to Neal with an innocent look in his eyes that didn’t match the mischief in his smile.

Neal watched him carefully. “Do you often offer tea to possible car thieves that almost get you killed?”

Jefferson laughed. “And I also invite them into my house, yes.”

“Might be more careful,” Neal suggested, taking a seat and reaching for the teacup. “I could be a murderer, or something.”

“You don’t look like a murderer.”

Neal tapped the handle of his teacup, but didn’t drink. Jefferson kept watching him eagerly, leaning forward slightly.

“You should drink,” he said. “Best to warm up before your search. It’s getting cold outside.”

 _His flirting is less than subtle_.

Neal looked down again. Then out of the window. Then thought of Henry.

“Can you really help me?” he asked.

Jefferson seemed startled by that question. “What do you need?”

Neal slumped and put the teacup down. “I need to know the fastest way out of town on foot. And I need something stronger than tea.”

Jefferson smiled. “Kitchen is that way. There’s beer in the fridge. But I’ll have you know the brewery choices in Storybrooke are very limited.”

“Thought as much.”

Jefferson laughed again. “I’ll go get my maps.”

Neal waited for him to get up and leave before heading for the kitchen, thinking accidentally bumping into him as he tried to go around the coffee table could make things awkward. Maybe even give him the wrong impression.

The kitchen was as luxurious as everything else. Double fridge. Lots of beer bottles neatly stocked inside, all labeled  _Miner’s Brewery_.

 _That’s the real curse_ , he thought.  _No Heineken._

He picked two bottles.

“Heigh-ho, it’s off to find rebellious children we-”

He stopped mid-turn.

That was Henry’s backpack.

Against the wall, in Jefferson’s pristine kitchen.

He barely had time to register it before something covered his mouth and nose.

The bottles crashed on the floor.

“Don’t tell me,” Jefferson’s voice said, next to his ear. “I didn’t put that away.”

Neal reached for his hand, but Jefferson kicked the back of his knees and he lost balance.

“Forgetful me,” he said. “It’s a miracle I didn’t forget to limp with the right leg.”

Before the chloroform claimed him, Neal saw Henry’s backpack one last time. But when he tried to ask, “What did you do to my son?” the words failed him and he slipped into unconsciousness.

*

Neal woke up to the horrible realization that he had been tied up in his sleep, a scarf tied around his head and shoved into his mouth. The light hurt his eyes and it took him a moment to realize where he was.

He had been dragged back to the living room and was currently lying on the floor, between the coffee table and the couch. His arms were starting to go numb.

Jefferson had tied those ropes really tight.

Right after he drugged him.

Right after Neal saw Henry’s backpack in his kitchen.

“’enry!” he mumbled to himself, still dizzy.

He pushed himself up and looked around. His captor was nowhere to be found, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t come back at any moment.

He could be with Henry. Doing lord knows what.

_If he so much as touches my son I SWEAR!_

He needed to find Henry and get the hell out of that house. Or better, he needed to call Graham.

Or Madam Mayor. She’d hang the little bastard by the scarf.

 _No_ , he thought, trying to calm down, though the idea of hanging Jefferson by the scarf was surprisingly soothing.  _I need an escape plan._ That  _is what I need_.

His eyes fell on the tea set. Despite the gag, Neal smiled.

 _Never invite a thief into your house, Jefferson_ , he thought, as he pushed a teacup to the floor and covered it with a pillow.  _We make lousy prisoners_.

With that, he stomped on the teacup, breaking it into sharp pieces.

*

Calling Graham was out of the question. Jefferson (or whatever his real name was) had taken his cellphone and there was no phone in the living room or the kitchen.

 _I just need to find Henry and get out of here_.

_And hope the psycho won’t kill me._

_How hard can it be?_

Neal tried the windows. They didn’t open, but it wasn’t a big drop. If he found Henry, he could break the glass and-

Neal turned his head, his planning interrupted by a curious,  _rasping_  sound that sent an unpleasant chill down his spine. He opened another door and peered into the corridor Jefferson had guided him through when first limping into the house.

And there he was, in the room right across from the living room.  _Sharpening_ something, over and over. Then he stopped and held it against the light, admiring the way it shined. Scissors. Very sharp scissors.

_How many psychopaths are there in this town?!_

Neal held his breath and moved out slowly, listening to Jefferson go back to sharpening.

Rasp.

Rasp.

Rasp.

His foot hit a loose board on the floor.

_No no no._

He reached for the closest door and entered. Maybe this one had a phone.

“Nheel’!”

Neal’s heart jumped and he turned.

And then it flooded with relief.

Henry! Tied up to a chair and muzzled with a scarf, but  _alive_!

He threw his arms around him before he could think of anything else. Then ripped the scarf off his mouth.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, holding his face.

“Yes,” he said, but he didn’t look okay. For all the things he had endured the past few months, that was the first time Neal had actually seen him look scared. “I was in the woods, trying to get out of town, but he showed up, and talked to me, and said it was dangerous to leave, and said that bad things happen when you try to leave, and I thought be believed me, and I followed him home-”

Neal shushed him and finished untying him. “It’s alright,” he whispered, pulling him back into an embrace. Henry breathed, but it sounded more like a sob. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

“I just wanted to find mom.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you not to.”

“She’s the only one who can break the curse.”

“We’re getting out of here.” Neal helped him get up. “We’re getting out of here, and then we’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry whispered back, and reached for his hand to grasp tightly.

Neal checked the windows, but they were much higher on that side of the house. He’d have to risk the front door.

He pulled Henry behind him and opened the door. By the quietness of it, the sharpening had stopped. They’d have to be quick. They stepped into the corridor and Neal closed the door as silently as he could, never taking his eyes away from the room he last had seen Jefferson in.

“Oh look!”

He jumped around. When he recognized the click of a trigger, he pushed Henry behind his body and got ready to fight.

Jefferson, however, was looking at them with a big smile on his face.

“You found him! Isn’t it great?”

Neal heaved and stared at him, evaluating his situation. Jefferson was more or less the same size as his, a little less weight. But crazy people are known to be strong.

“Now, I know what you are thinking,” Jefferson said, without moving from the wall he was leaning on, hand pointing a gun steadily at Neal’s chest. “What are the chances of Henry getting hurt if you attack me right now?”

Henry peeked around his father’s body, but Neal pulled him back, eyes on the gun.

“My best guess would be there is a very good chance,” Jefferson said, mockery in his tone. He shrugged. “In fact, I’d say a one per cent chance is already good enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

“He’s not gonna shoot me,” Henry said.

“Henry, be quiet,” Neal said.

“But-”

“ _Henry_!” he hissed, and the boy shut up.

“Yes, do as Papa tells you.” Jefferson smiled.

“I called Graham,” Neal said.

Jefferson scoffed. “With the cellphone I took from you?”

“I had another.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Take that chance.”

“I think I will. Now,” he motioned with the gun, “turn around slowly. He’s back on the chair, and we are both having a little chat.”

*

“It’s okay, Neal,” Henry said, right before his father placed the gag back in his mouth. “You’re a hero. Heroes always win in the end.”

Neal was very aware that the gun that being pointed to his head was not in any fairy tale. Curse or no curse, this was the Land Without Magic, and if Jefferson pulled that trigger, he’d be dead.

But he still gave Henry a little smile and a kiss on the forehead before covering his mouth again.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised, trying to sound reassuring. And Henry believed him – by  _god_ , he believed him completely.

Jefferson made him close the door, leaving his son in the dark. Together, they walked down the corridor, the gun sometimes poking between Neal’s shoulders.

Neal couldn’t help but think of his father.

He would kneel down and kiss Jefferson’s boots if only he promised to let Henry go.

No. He would lick them clean if he’d just let him leave the lights on, on the odd chance that it would make Henry feel safer.

“You kidnapped the Mayor’s son,” Neal said, as Jefferson finished tying his hands to a chair.

“Yes,” he replied, with the utmost indifference.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

“Yes.”

“She’s driving herself crazy right now trying to find him, and if she finds out-”

“I think we’ll both agree the Sheriff is keeping her busy the best way he knows how to. So she won’t notice he’s gone until morning. At least.”

“Graham told her.”

“No, he did not.” Jefferson got up and looked down on him. “You don’t want her to know he ran away again. Or maybe you don’t want her to know  _why_.”

Neal didn’t answer.

Jefferson raised his hands. “I’m not asking. I’m sure he has very good reasons to run away from her.”

_You have no idea._

Neal remained silent.

Jefferson went around the chair and passed some rope around his chest. “Personally,” he said, “if she were my mom, I would run away from her as well. But I can’t have you running around and causing trouble.”

“And why is th-”

Jefferson pulled the ropes so tight Neal lost his breath for a moment, cutting the question short. After giving it a tight knot, he lowered himself to Neal’s ear. “Because you are going to help me.”

*

After that, Jefferson didn’t say another word, he just sat down at a table and started cutting fabric with his sharp and dangerous looking scissors, leaving Neal tied up in a corner to observe the room. More shut windows. Nothing to cut his ropes with. Gun out of his reach. Screaming for help would probably end badly.

 _Wonderful_.

There was another tea set on the other side of the room, but unless Jefferson took an exceptionally long bathroom break, he couldn’t see it being of any use. Although, he was so concentrated in his own work that he might not even notice.

Neal kept watching, expecting the moment he’d catch a break and a brilliant plan would pop into his mind. Jefferson worked quickly, experienced, as if he had done that same thing hundreds of times before. And maybe he had… On the wall right behind Jefferson’s chair, three glass shelves were filled with top hats, the fabric used to make them of a purplish blue. The same shade of the one he was working with right now.

_Wait a minute…_

A psychotic hatter with an obsession with tea?

In spite of his situation, Neal started laughing.

Jefferson looked up. “What is so funny?”

“You’re the Mad Hatter.”

Jefferson frowned. Glared at him. Then turned back to his hat and started sewing.

Neal nodded. “Okay then. Is this why you wanted me to drink your tea so badly? Or was it because you were trying to drug me in a less aggressive way?”

Jefferson kept on sewing.

“And me thinking you were flirting.”

A little smirk glistened in Jefferson’s mouth. “Sorry to disappoint.”

For a moment, they were in silence. Then Jefferson put down his scissors.

“You said ‘you are’.”

“Pardon me?”

“You didn’t say ‘you  _think_  you’re the Mad Hatter’. You said ‘you  _are_ ’.”

“Did I?” Neal shrugged as cynically as he could muster. “I don’t remember.”

Jefferson narrowed his eyes. Neal stared back, impassive, until the other man gave up and got back to his previous task.

“It  _is_  a curious thing, though!” Neal announced, making Jefferson drop the scissors with frustration.

“ _What_?” he demanded.

“You knew  _exactly_  what buttons to push with Henry,” he said. “The whole town line thing. The ‘bad things’ that might happen if he tried to leave. Is almost as if you  _knew_ , but where would you have learned about his make-believe.”

Jefferson scoffed, “Make-believe…”

“Unless you stalked him,” Neal concluded. “Or you believe it yourself. Or maybe it’s both-”

“Either way, I did your son a favor,” Jefferson cut in.

“Oh, I know,” Neal agreed, immediately.

For a moment, Jefferson didn’t say a word, just staring at him, measuring him, trying to access what he knew.

“You don’t have to do this,” Neal said. “I think we want the same thing. Talk to me, lets sort this out.”

That seemed to break the spell, because Jefferson sighed and got up. Neal’s heart started pounding, but he didn’t reach for the gun on the table, which was a good sign. He just started untying the scarf around his neck.

Neal knew exactly where that was going to happen and started ranting. “C’mon, Jefferson, talk to me. We both want this curse to break.”

“No, we don’t,” Jefferson said, going around him.

“Then I don’t understand. Why kidnap Henry? Why do you need my help?”

“Right now, Henry is to keep  _you_  quiet,” Jefferson said, shoving his scarf far into his mouth and tying it behind his head.

“ _G_ ’ _mon_!” Neal complaint, pointlessly.

“ _You_  are my side of the deal.”

Something in the way he said that made Neal’s blood go cold.

When Jefferson tried to walk away, Neal stomped his foot on the floor until he turned back. The look on his hostage’s eyes must have been very amusing, because Jefferson chuckled.

“Look at that!” he said, vibrant with knew knowledge. “I wasn’t sure until now if you were just playing along for my benefit or if you had been cursed yourself. But look how pale you turned when I mentioned Papa? And I didn’t even used his name.”

Neal knew the dryness in his mouth had nothing to do with the gag.

“You are my bargain, Baelfire.”

When Jefferson turned again, Neal tried to shout, “ _What for_?” The sound that came through the gag was messy. But Jefferson still turned back, holding his half-made hat. “For a little magic.”

*

After that, Jefferson sat down and concentrated on his sewing. Neal tried to get his attention many times by mumbling curses and pleas, but he kept his eyes on the hat and didn’t look up for the next hour.

After a while, Neal gave up. He could only hope Regina would notice Henry was gone sooner than he had hoped for. But even so, how could she possibly find out where Jefferson was keeping them? Surely that wouldn’t happen before the madman was done with his hat – whatever the hell it was for – and had already called his father for a trade.

Ever since he arrived in town, Neal had avoided the pawnshop. Within three days, he had figured out Mr. Gold’s itinerary and started avoiding those places as well. Wasn’t very hard. Just like the rest of Storybrooke, his routine never changed.

Henry didn’t know who Mr. Gold truly was, and Neal wasn’t going to tell him.

The thing was, Mr. Gold himself didn’t seem to know who Mr. Gold was. There was something very familiar – very  _cunning_  about him. And yet, he was trapped repeating the same day, and nothing Neal had seen so far gave any indication that he knew of the curse. In fact, the only two people capable of introducing any kind of change in their routine seemed to be Regina and Henry. Maybe Jefferson could too.

But Rumpelstiltskin kept on limping his way through town like a ruthless pawnbroker, oblivious to anything that wasn’t his deals.

 _I guess some things never change_.

When Jefferson settled the finished hat down, Neal still had no plan of action. But Jefferson did not move, just leaned back on his chair and observed his work for a long time. By the look on his face, he was calculating risks and rethinking the whole thing, which worked in Neal’s favor.

“ _Nngh_ ,” he mumbled, making Jefferson look up. “ _Wongh_.”

Jefferson frowned. He had a guess on what Neal was trying to tell him, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Neal insisted, “ _Wongh_!”

With very stiff steps, he marched up to him and yanked the gag off his mouth. “ _Won’t_  what?”

“He won’t break it.”

Jefferson stared at him.

Neal pushed, “Even if he can, he’ll already have what he came to this land for. He’ll likely change my memories and leave you all to rot. That is, if he doesn’t kill you before.”

Jefferson really seemed to consider it. Then said, “You can make him change it.”

“I couldn’t make him a better man before, I cannot make him one now. The man is rotten. Whatever it is that you want from him, you better find another way-”

“ _There is no other way_!”

Neal threw himself back and shut up immediately. It wasn’t until Jefferson’s voice stopped ringing inside his ears that he tried again. “He doesn’t remember things-”

“He remembers  _everything_!” Jefferson insisted, walking back to his desk and picking his cellphone. “He wouldn’t be dumb enough to create this whole plan just to come after you, and then get stuck in a small town with no memories of who he is!”

“He was dumb enough to get stuck in a small town with no way out!” Neal said, louder.

“He’s waiting for you to show up!” Jefferson shouted back. “He sees the future! He  _knew_  you were coming! And guess what?” He started punching a number on the cellphone. “You  _did_!”

Clicking on the speaker, he put the phone between them. Neal could hear it ringing.

His heart started pounding, but Jefferson’s voice was steady when he instructed, “You are going to tell him to meet someone for a deal tomorrow, in exchange for your life. I’ll meet him at Granny’s at seven to discuss the details. You do not say my name. You do not say where you are.”

“But what if-”

“ _Hello?_ ”

Neal shut up.

That was his father’s voice. The accent was a little more Scottish than Frontlands, and even groggy with sleep he sounded firm.

“ _Hello?_ ” he insisted.

Jefferson stared at Neal. By the look in his eyes, he was as nervous as Neal himself.

Jefferson mouthed, “Now!”

Neal thought of Henry in the other room.

“ _Who is this?_ ” his father said, sounding very annoyed.

Neal took in some breath and said, “Papa, it’s me.”

“ _Who’s_ me _?_ ”

Jefferson gave him an angry look and Neal tried again. “It’s Baelfire, Papa. I’m in Storybrooke.”

Mr. Gold said nothing.

With another look, Jefferson told him to keep going.

“Someone’s got me, Papa, and they want to make you a deal,” he continued.

Silence.

Then, “ _What are you talking about?_ ”

Neal didn’t know if he should feel terrified or relieved.

He didn’t remember.

He was as lost as the rest of town.

But Jefferson was urging him to keep going.

“I…” Neal searched for words. “I mean it, Papa. I’m here and they want magic. Or else they’ll hurt me. And your grandson-”

“ _Is this Mr. Cassidy?_ ”

Neal swallowed a lump in his throat. “No, it’s Baelfire, Papa. They have a gun, and if you remember me, you have to say it-”

“ _Mr. Cassidy_ ,” said Mr. Gold, angrily. They had probably awakened him. “ _I don’t know how it is in New York, but in this town, people sleep at night_.”

Jefferson’s face was growing red.

“Papa, I-”

“ _And we do not appreciate prank calls, specially from grown men_ _who probably had a few too_ _many_ _. If you do this again,_ _I will notify the Sheriff and the Mayor. Harassing crippled old men does not look good in a custody battle. Good night, Mr. Cassidy_.”

With that, he hung up.

*

Neal held his breath. Jefferson was still staring at the phone and hadn’t looked up yet. His face had assumed a neutral expression and Neal did not like it one bit. He had no idea what to say, thinking anything could trigger Jefferson and, knowing there was a gun and a sharp pair of scissors on the nearby table, he was probably best in silence.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jefferson said, “He’s lying.”

His voice was meek and full of hope. He wanted Neal to tell him that was probably the case. Pretty soon Rumpelstiltskin would barge into the room with a manic giggle and a contract to demand his son back.

Instead, Neal said, “You know he’s not.”

Jefferson looked at the cellphone, then at Neal. “He loves you. He spent centuries trying to get to you. He made this curse for you. Why would he do all of this if he couldn’t even remember you?”

Neal thought of Emma.

Out loud, he said, “Maybe something went wrong.”

“Yes,” Jefferson said, nodding his head. “Yes, it must have.”

He sounded so defeated Neal almost felt sorry for him. But then he turned around and reached for the scissors and Neal’s heart stopped beating.

“Whoa, no, wait, Jefferson, we can call him again-”

Jefferson scoffed. “Shut up.” And, much to Neal’s surprise, he started cutting the ropes that bound him to the chair. When he was done, he simply said, “Go.” And turned to stare out of the window.

“That’s it?” Neal asked, against his better judgment.

“That’s it. Go.”

Neal got up. The gun was still on the table and Jefferson had dropped the scissors on the ground. And he had his back to him. To subdue him would be very easy. Then he could set Henry free and call Graham.

Jefferson must have known Neal wouldn’t just let things be.

And yet, he didn’t even look at him.

“What did you need magic for?”

Jefferson didn’t answer for a second. Then, he said, “You are trying your luck. I set you free. Now get your son and go.”

“How do you remember everything?” Neal insisted. “If you did it, I can get the rest of town-”

“I didn’t do  _anything_ ,” he said, angrily, without looking away from the window. “I was always like this and I don’t know why. One morning, I wake up with two conflicting lives in my head, stuck in this town with no way back. There is nothing you can do, so you should probably take Henry and leave town. You were not brought here by the curse, so maybe you can make it-” He stopped himself when he realized Neal had decided to stand right beside him and stare out of the window as well. “Are you really  _that_  dumb that when a madman offers you a way out you decide to stay a little longer for tea?”

Neal ignored him and scanned the view of buildings.

Jefferson stared at him as if  _he_  was the madman. “Forget prank calling.  _This_ is the kind of thing that might cost you a custody battle.”

“Who did you lose?”

Jefferson’s eyes grew twice their size and Neal found great pleasure in surprising him.

After a moment, he looked away and answered, “My daughter.”

“Was she left behind?”

“There was nothing left behind.”

Neal scanned the buildings again, now with the right target in mind. Chose the little girl having dinner with her loving parents right across the street. From where Jefferson was standing, he had a privileged view of their home.

“Is that it?” Neal asked, pointing.

Jefferson nodded. “A happy second life.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jefferson gave him a look. “You don’t sound very sorry.”

“I would if you weren’t keeping my son tied up in the other room,” Neal replied.

“I was going to trade him with Regina,” Jefferson explained, a little defensive.

“But then I came after him and plans changed. How did you know just where to find me? Have you been watching me?”

“No!” Jefferson said, sounding outraged at the accusation. “I’ve been watching Graham.”

Neal turned to face him with a smirk. “Pardon me. That is much less creepy.”

“Because he’s Regina’s boyfriend. He’s useful.”

Neal blinked. “Again! Much less creepy.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “You are a terrible hostage.”

Neal nodded in agreement. “Not the first time I hear that. How did you know who I was?”

“I spent a lot of time in your father’s castle.”

Neal almost chuckled. “The old man got himself a castle? Man, when I thought his megalomania couldn’t get any worse. So what, you were his buddy? He confided in you?”

“I heard things I was not supposed to,” Jefferson said. “That was all. Took me some time to put the pieces together, but I couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d want to come to this wretched place. And then Henry brings his supposed father to town, and I thought that had to be it.”

“And what are you going to do now that the plan failed?”

“What  _can_  I do?” Jefferson replied.

“I don’t know,” Neal shrugged, casually. “I don’t believe there are many options.”

Jefferson sighed sadly, staring at his daughter on the other side of the street.

“You can stay in this house,” Neal suggested, “and wait for the day the Evil Queen decides to take pity in all of us. Or you could try to exchange Henry for a little bit of mercy and pray she doesn’t lock you up in the mental hospital. What part of that plan did you think was good, by the way?”

“I never said it was a perfect plan,” Jefferson said, defensive.

“Far from it.”

Jefferson looked offended, but didn’t say a word.

Neal looked at him for a while, weighting the risks of his next step before making a decision.

“There is a third option,” he said, after a moment.

“And what would that be?”

“Suppose the old man did have a plan B in case he forgot everything.”

Jefferson’s head snapped in his direction quickly. But when he spoke, he tried his best not to sound too eager – or even worse, hopeful. “I am listening.”

“Suppose there was a way to break the curse and leave this place.”

“Yes?”

“And that someone knew how to do it.”

“Yes?”

“In this case, your first reaction would be telling Regina, in the off chance she won’t back stab you, or being patient and help break the curse?”

“And how could the curse be broken?”

Neal smirked. “You overestimate my trust in you right now, Jefferson.”

“And you underestimate my hate for that woman.”

“Point taken.”

Jefferson waited.

Neal said, “I need to get Henry across the townline.”

“What?” Jefferson all but shouted. “Are you out of your mind?”

Neal shook his head, considering. “Not sure. I think this might be the greatest moment of sanity I’ve head in a long time.”

“What will he do once he’s outside?”

“He’ll find someone to help us.”

“Who?”

“Someone you don’t need to know about right now.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. So that will be my part in this? To let your son go? I was already going to do that, if you recall.”

“No, your part is to take our side.”

“When?”

“When the war begins.”

Something in his tone made Jefferson stop and pay attention.

“We are about to piss off the Mayor in ways you have no idea. The three of us are the only ones who know the truth and that can break this curse. I need to know you’ll take our side.”

Jefferson considered it. Said, “And how about your old man?”

Neal didn’t say anything for a moment. He hadn’t thought about that part yet. “Is it true there is no magic in this land? Not even here?”

“Whatever magic we have here, it is faint.”

“And neither him nor Regina could harm anybody the way they did in the Enchanted Forest?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Then once the curse is broken we will lock them both up and throw away the key.”

“And how do I know you won’t take Henry and leave the moment things get complicated?”

“Because things are already complicated and I’m still here. If I get out of town with him, Regina has all the paperwork to prove she’s his mother and I’d only be the biological parent who stalked and kidnapped Henry. In here, she can’t keep us apart. But I ask you the same thing,” Neal said, looking him in the eyes. “How do I know you won’t change sides the moment things get complicated?”

Jefferson stared back at him. “Because you are my best chance.”

*

Henry had been squirming and trying to get rid of the ropes for the past two hours. Neal thought he’d have to cover up those burns, or else his mother would find a way to turn it against him.

“Did he hurt you?” Henry asked, giving Jefferson an angry look.

Jefferson laughed. “Ha! I see the resemblance.”

“No, he didn’t. He just wanted our help.” Neal helped his son up. “He just joined Operation Cobra.”

Henry looked at his dad, then at the other man, confused. “But he is a villain.”

“Debatable,” Jefferson said.

“I’ll tell you the whole thing later. Come, lets get out of here.”

Outside, morning was dawning. Pretty soon Regina would wake up and realize her son was missing.

“So what is your plan, Neal?” Jefferson asked, closing the passenger door once Henry was inside.

Neal said, “I’ll help him get to a bus station and drive back. I think I can do that in less than two hours.” He looked at the sky. “No, I’ll have to do it faster.”

“Drive slow when you’re leaving,” Jefferson said. “You’re not cursed, but you never know.”

“Right.”

“And maybe, when you come back, I can learn more about Operation Cobra.”

“You know what you can do? Point that telescope of yours to the pawnshop, if you can.”

Jefferson thought about it. “It is out of sight, but I see what you mean. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

With that, Jefferson put out his hand.

Neal hesitated, but shook it.

Inside the car, Henry still regarded Jefferson with suspicion.

Neal started the car and Henry asked, “So, what is the story?”

“Short story? He’s the Mad Hatter and he is going to help us.”

Henry’s chin dropped to the ground. “How about long story? Can we even trust him?”

Neal looked at the rear mirror. Jefferson was looking after them, probably wondering the same thing.

“I hope we can,” Neal said, and then drove faster towards the townline.


End file.
